


3am

by malmo777



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Booty Calls, Fluff, Lemon, Love Confessions, M/M, Nightmares, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malmo777/pseuds/malmo777
Summary: Just a few one shots. 3am in the Hetalia universe. What are all the ships up to?





	1. FrUk

**Author's Note:**

> I think writing the actual accents of the characters will be too hard. I'll attempt it with Germany, but otherwise, use your imagination.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 3am, what are France and England up to?

~3am, England's house.~

England awoke to the sound of a doorbell. _Who could be here at this time of night,_ he thought. Of course, there was always France. France liked to come at the strangest hours for a late night snack, but he always called first. England would never admit it, but it hurt him. Sure, the sex was great, but he felt such an emptiness afterwards. He truly loved France, despite everything they'd gone through together. And maybe, if they were together, they could be stronger than all the other countries. But that wasn't a conversation they could even have yet. France didn't seem interested in anything more than a bit of tail.

England trudged down his stairs to see who was bothering him. He passed himself in a mirror. "Oh dear, my hair is a disaster." He ran his fingers through it to make it somewhat presentable. He glanced down at his Union Jack sweatpants and loafer slippers. Whoever it was would see him in a pretty vunerable state.

When he opened the door, he was only a little bit surprised. Of course it was France, wearing his full cape and everything. His face was concerned. Those perfectly shaped brow were furrowed. Uh oh. Was he here to deliver bad news?

"Hey." France began.

"Hey, what are you doing here so late?" England rested against the door frame.

"Uhm, you see, I wanted to tell you something." France put his hands behind his back. 

"Is this bad news, chap?" 

"No, well, it's not really news at all. It's moreso just that something's up with me." France took an exhale. He then looked England rights in his green eyes. "I want to apologize. I know I've been nothing but a pain to you. And at times I've even used you. I hope you know that I do not come here because I want a quick fuck from you. I come here because I love seeing you and I love spending time with you. Yet the only excuse I can ever come up with to see you is sex."

England was confused. He was groggy from waking up, and couldn't quite tell if he was dreaming or not. "Excuse me, come again?"

"I love you, Britain!" France pouted. It looked like he could have cried.

This was a lot for England to take in. Of course he had his own feelings, but things were complicated. England couldn't just jump in France's arms and run away with him, as much as he would like to. Clearly, they had a lot to talk about. England looked past France to his garden. A swing sat in the middle, adorned by the dewey fox gloves and daffodils. Tonight was an unsually warm night, albiet still a bit chilly. No matter. England said nothing, but grabbed France's hand and brought him to the swing.

They sat. England twisted his body so he could face France. He even set it leg atop France's, and took his hands. "I love you too. But where did you want to go from here? I love you so much, France, but I'm not sure we could ever date. We get so mad at each other. And if we dated, what's the end goal? Get married? Would we butt heads too much to become a unified nation?"

France hotly exhaled. "I don't have any answers for you. The only thing I do know is that I love you, and I'm tired of the quick fucks and pretending I hate you."

"Everything is alright, Francey-Pants. We'll be just fine." England smoothed over France's cheek with his thumb. He loved the feel of the stubble beneath his fingertip. He then leaned in to kiss France, just once. It was a sweet kiss that lingered on their lips long after it had ended. "Right now isn't a good time to think about this, anyway. We're tired and not thinking straight."

"You're right. I'll head back now." France bent over to give him a goodbye kiss, then stood.

"Don't be ridiculous. Just stay here." England stood as well. "It's too late to go all the way back." Not as if that had ever stopped France after they slept together.

"I don't want to impose."

England scoffed. "You never impose. C'mon, I'll even make you breakfast in the morning."

"Don't you dare!" France hissed.

England chuckled as he lead him inside. He wasn't sure if France had ever even been in his bedroom. They would move so quickly that they're typical spot for sex was on the couch. They'd even done it in England's study a few times. Being bent over his desk was truly a favorite pasttime. Tonight was very different, though. Nothing about it was sexual. They arrived in England's bedroom. England turned on a lamp and looked to France. "Would you like something to sleep in?"

France chuckled. "You think I sleep in clothes?"

"Oh, that's right. You're France for fuck's sake." England laughed. France was either in the finest clothes or nothing at all. 

England crawled into his bed, relaxing under the covers. He watched patiently as France undressed. He admired France's strong body in a way that he's never seen it before. France had perfect muscles along his back and arms, and he just wanted to touch all of it. He watched France softly braid his hair and tie a ribbon at the end, so he wouldn't mess up his perfect locks in his sleep. Plus, France wasn't all that sure that England even had a comb in the first place. He crawled under the covers and wrapped his arms around England. France kissed England's forehead. "Tomorrow, will you let me fix these?" France ran his thumb along England's eyebrows.

"Definitely not."

They kissed a few times more and fell asleep.

*


	2. RusAme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 3am. What are Russia and America up to?

~3am, America's Bedroom~

America was sitting on his floor, spending another night trying to win a video game he borrowed from Japan. He was drinking Red Bull after Red Bull to stay awake. He was maybe an hour or two from being done when he heard his phone ring. He defeated one last creature before he paused it. Without looking at the ID, he answered. "Yellow?"

"America?" He knew that thick accent. So sweet and soft, with a darkness underneath. "Are you awake right now?"

"Yeah, I'm playing a video game." America answered back. "What's up, Russia?"

"Oh, nothing. I just couldn't sleep and figured you might want to come keep me company." Russia tossed and turned in his bed.

"No way, man. I have to finish this game. Plus, it's three in the morning! Why would you expect me to go all the way over there?"

Russia grinned. "Well, America, you seemed to enjoy it so much last time."

America shuddered at the thought of hurting that much again after. "Fuck that! I'm not coming over!" He took the phone from his ear to hang up.

"I'll be gentle this time."

At that, America melted with comfort. He could handle a nice ass pounding again if Russia was sweeter. "I'm coming over." And he hung up.

The normally long journey ended up being very quick. America sped the entire way. When he arrived, he shoved his car into park and hopped out, nearly forgetting to turn it off. He sprinted to Russia's front door.

Russia opened, looking debonair. His silk matching pajamas had a signature style print, like something one would find in a bazaar. America suddenly felt very underdressed in his Superman t-shirt and mesh shorts that didn't even match. Russia still found him ravishing, though. To him, America had that wide-eyed youth that couldn't be faked. It was confident and attractive.

Russia leaned in to kiss him. America fought back, like he always did. He argued for the control, but when Russia wrapped his arms around America's waist, he surrendered. They stood in the doorway, kissing gleefully, until Russia's nose clinked with America's glasses.

"C'mon, let's go inside." Russia dragged America's hand into the house. The door swung shut behind them.

They ventured up the old wooden staircase to Russia's bedroom. His home was far off in the quiet countryside, but his bedroom held a regency that one may find in the palace of the tzar. His bed was grand, covered in intricate linens. Unexpectedly, Russia grabbed America by the hips and threw him on the bed. He spun America around and yanked his ass up. 

"You promised to be gentle this time!" America whined at the large slav.

Russia ripped both their pants down. "This is me being gentle."

"Is not!-" America said before screeching. Russia was very ready to go, apparently. Russia rammed himself into America's ass, completely raw, with no warning. It stung all over, but America couldn't deny that he loved the pain. With each thrust, he shouted out in pain.

"Jesus Christ!"

"George Washington!"

"Alexander Hamilton!"

"Martin Luther King Junior!"

Russia yelled out in anger, "Stop! You're making me go soft!" He picked up speed and gripped the hem of America's shirt.

The pain was too much, and America spewed everywhere. Feeling America's body constrict made Russia finish inside him. He pulled out, observing the poor kid beneath him. America was breathless and crying. Russia pulled up his pants and went to his wardrobe to grab a cigarette. 

America winced as he sat down. He was in a lot of pain, but it was all worth it. He stepped back into his pants and wiped his face.

"Oh, fuck. I am sorry. Maybe that wasn't very delicate of me." Russia forced a chuckle.

"You do this to me every time! I don't know why I come back to you." America pouted. "Well, I do. It's because I love it."

Russia handed him the cigarette. Even with those teary eyes, America's excitement could never be dimmed. 

He took a puff and coughed, but always went back for seconds.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2/3, hope y'all enjoyed it. Sorry it took me so long. I was going to do a genuine realistic lemon, but I couldn't come up with any new ideas, so I just made it a joke. Third chapter of GerIta will be up soon! Also, thanks everybody for the kudos!


	3. GerIta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 3am, what are Germany and Italy up to?

~3am, Germany's bedroom~

Italy awoke in a cold sweat. He had another nightmare again that the world broke into a third war, and Germany didn't want to be on his side. Truth is, Italy never really cared who's side he was on, or what he was fighting for, as long as he had Germany. But this dream was about is pasta tasted good, and he couldn't possibly fight that. Although, now looking at the sleeping German, he knew he would give up anything, even pasta.

Germany was so sweet while he slept. He had no brutish snore, or angry face. He just had a blank expression, and sometimes, even a smile. Italy loved that. Germany was so harsh, that any bit of affection or happiness was a gift. Italy was so grateful for Germany regardless. He always felt so safe and protected in Germany's arms. He trusted Germany. He fell deeply in love with those shimmering blue eyes and that relentless dominance. He wondered what Germany saw in him.

"Germany," Italy placed his head atop Germany's bountiful chest. 

"Mmm." Germany grunted.

"Germany, do you like pasta?"

"Yes, it's very good." Germany said, this time, a lot more gently.

"I had a nightmare."

"Mhmm."

"It was that we had another world war, and, and, it was about pasta, and you weren'tonthesameteamasmeandIwasveryscared-"

"Italy," Germany finally opened his eyes. He rested a hand on Italy's cheek. "Did you wake me up for this?"

"Well, uh-"

"I'm not going to leave you because we argue about pasta. Beer, maybe..." Germany lied back down.

"Oh, no, Germany! You can have all the beer in the world! You could even make me drink beer from now on-" Italy became frantic again.

"I was only joking." Germany said. "Calm down."

Italy exhaled and rested again. "Germany? What do you see in me?"

Germany was so absolutely puzzled by this. Italy had never been so self aware or introspective before. It concerned Germany so much that he sat up, turning on the bedroom lamp. There he saw a red-eyed Italy, with his little curl in a knot. Germany was careful to undo the curl in a way that wouldn't turn Italy on. He didn't want that right now. He didn't want Italy to think that he was just used for sex. Germany felt Italy's hairless face in his palm. "I see a whole world in you. I see hope and constant optimism. I see the best beer in your eyes and the softest bread in your skin. I see a man much stronger than he'd ever give himself credit for. I see a talented chef and artist." Germany exhaled in frustration. "And I'm so sorry that I don't tell you these things enough. I'm not good at it. I'm not sensitive."

Italy looked like he could cry. He wrapped his arms around Germany. "Oh, Germany, you make-a my heart throb!"

Germany kissed him. "And I know I always say I hate it, but I really love that you always taste like garlic."

"Oh, I could marry you!" Italy pounced on him.

Germany just laughed and kissed his love.

<3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it! I'm still new to the fandom, so I don't know any other ships quite well enough to do a full chapter on, sorry. If you liked it though, I could go for another overarching one shot idea. Like what they would all do on a movie date or something. Anyway, thanks again for the kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with this yesterday and thought it might be fun to do. My first work on ao3!


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